


Mine

by Maknatuna



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Bottom Castiel, Cas without his powers, Dean speaking Spanish, Demon Dean, Dubious Consent, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Incubus Dean, M/M, Porn, Romance, Smut, Top Dean, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 04:09:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maknatuna/pseuds/Maknatuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With his grace bound and wings injured, Castiel stumbles into a bar full of demons.  Someone saves him from inevitable death, but at what cost?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> El Cielo - Heaven  
> Maldito bastardo - poor bastard  
> Atrás cabrón, o te romperé los dientes - Back off asshole, before I knock your teeth out!  
> Muy bien. Todos fuera - Very well. Everyone, get out.
> 
> Special thanks for helping with translations: lpili13, inspirit-lovestyling, assbutt-at-tardis221b, onamelancholyhill and fabricatedmistress .
> 
> Did I miss someone? Please tell me if I did!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by: surrenderingtosupernatural.tumblr.com

The battle is bloody and ruthless. A lot of demons and angels fall that day. There are only six angels left against the most powerful demon - Baal-berith. One touch of the fire whiplash he holds can scorch the ground and burn every single living thing, including angels.

Castiel sees with his own eyes how his sisters and brothers combust when the whip touches them. Baal-berith is fast and strong and Castiel regrets that they have not brought reinforcements. But no one has expected such resistance and endurance.

Castiel raises his blade to strike a blow, but the demon's whip wraps around it, melting and shattering it to pieces. Instantly Baal-berith's hand closes around the angel's throat, squeezing it hard.

"You thought you could defeat me so easily, angel-face?" he growls menacingly. "Look at your dead siblings. Look at what you did."

Castiel once again silently blames himself for such great loss and unwillingly thinks that the demon is right.

"Give me a quick death." He stares at Baal-berith, unblinking and determined.

The demon smirks. "Quick death? Oh no, I have something else planned for you, pretty boy."

As soon as he speaks those words, Castiel feels horrible pain in his wings, like something's being ripped out, his senses get dulled, his vision blurs, and he passes out.

 

* * *

Castiel wakes up three hours later in a field. His head is pounding and his throat is dry and scratchy. His whole body aches and the pain in his back, or maybe his wings, is unbearable. As minutes pass, Castiel realizes that Baal-berith bound his grace and that is the reason he is feeling so vulnerable and fragile, like a human.

He walks out of the field onto an empty road. He does not know how he got here and he cannot recognize the place. The angel simply decides to walk until he sees any signs of life. There are vast corn fields on either side of the road and some frisky, loud coyotes accompanying the angel on his way to nowhere. Castiel's mind is occupied with a far more important question: when will Baal-berith's spell lose its power?

He's so deep in his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice when the dusty road ends. Castiel finds himself standing in front of an old, crappy looking bar with a green neon sign which says El Cielo. The angel recons that he's somewhere in Mexico. A crashing wave of pain washes over him and Castiel groans. He needs to sit down and rest a little, therefore he decides to go into the bar. Besides, the name of this place sounds soothing: El Cielo – Heaven.

He's met with a cloud of smoke, the smell of alcohol, and loud music pouring out of speakers from the depths of the room. Castiel manages to take a few steps before all the noises stop and everyone in the room stares at him. A washcloth in the bartender's hands falls on the bar counter. Castiel frowns, not understanding the reason for this sudden, dead silence. Until he sees their eyes. Dozens of black eyes are drilling holes into his soul. Castiel reels and catches the edge of the bar counter, preventing him from falling on the floor. How ironic! El Cielo full of demons!

"Don't come closer or I will smite you!" Castiel's voice is hoarse and does not sound as threatening as he would like it to be.

"Oh, really, angel?" A fat, bald man drops his cards on the table and stands up.

"You should not have come here," a second demon, a middle aged man with a scar on his cheek, cuts in, moving his chair back.

"Of course, because we are gonna fry your wings extra crispy. Maldito bastardo!" A black-haired Mexican standing at a pool table breaks a cue stick over his leg, holding the pieces like swords.

Castiel looks around, searching for something that he can use against these creatures. He is powerless and can't use his grace thanks to Baal-berith's spell, which by the way is getting worse, draining energy from the angel. Maybe the demon had planned everything to go like this? He dropped the angel near this place so he would find his death in the hands of these black eyed creatures.

"So, tell us, how did you fi…" the bald demon steps towards Castiel, but he's interrupted by a loud, confident voice.

"Atrás cabrón, o te romperé los dientes!"

Everyone in the room falls silent. The demons, who were just ready to attack Castiel, retreat slowly and go back to where they were. Castiel tries to see the owner of the voice in the thick smoke and dim lights.

"Looking for me?" a deep voice growls behind his back and the angel whirls around.

It's a young demon wearing a blue T-shirt, jeans, and a leather jacket. His green eyes are looking at Castiel with amusement and curiosity.

"What is such pretty thing as you doing at our bar?" The demon clicks his tongue, contemplating the angel shamelessly. "Aint you a little, curious angel?" he chuckles and tries to touch Castiel's face, but the angel punches him in the jaw, catching a small part of the demon's pretty, full lips.

The demon chuckles and licks blood off of his bottom lip. He leans towards Castiel, whispering quietly. "You know, there’s a saying that true love always starts with a fight. Kinda seeing the truth in that. By the way, I'm Dean. Who are you? Wanna tell me your name, pretty boy?"

"Get… Away… From… Me!" Castiel snarls, enunciating each word. "Abomination!"

"Aw, you're hurting my feelings." Dean puts on a rejected face. "And what will you do if I don't get away from you?"

"I will smite you!" Castiel tries to reassure first of all himself that he still can do it.

Dean throws his head back and laughs. His laughter is pleasant and nice to hear. What? Castiel shakes his head in disbelief. Did he just think that?

"You can't do anything, angel." Dean smiles at him. "I can see what's wrong with you. You are under a binding spell. Your grace is bound and you are powerless. Also, you've got some nasty thorns in your wings, which are draining energy from you." Dean winks at him nonchalantly, like it's one of the many usual conversations he has on daily basis.

"There are no thorns, I would be able to touch or feel them," Castiel protests.

"Of course not. They are demonic herbs. And if used correctly, no angel is able to see them. The purpose is a slow death. Hmm, I see you pissed off someone pretty bad if he used this shit on you." Dean leans against the bar counter, folding his arms across his chest.

"I don't understand." Castiel's frown deepens.

"You see, someone – and my guess is it was a superior demon – cast a grace binding spell on you and then put those thorns into your wings. If you did not have your grace bound, you'd be able to heal and get rid of these things, but that's the point – no grace, therefore death," the demon explains patiently.

"It's not true," Castiel protests. "My grace will come back. It's only temporary." He wants to add something else, but he feels lightheaded and his knees buckle. Before he hits the floor, someone's strong hands catch him, not letting him fall.

"Your wings are bleeding and losing feathers. You'll be dead in two hours if you're lucky." Dean swallows hard when the angel's limp body slumps against his muscled chest. "By the way, I can help you get rid of those thorns." His lips touch Castiel's ear and the angel shudders. He wants to object and send this demon to hell (literally and figuratively) but the pain is getting worse and Castiel whimpers.

"Come on, angel. Tell me your answer." Dean looks into Castiel's eyes and they look so clear that Castiel nods his agreement. "Good." Dean smiles. "I gotta tell you though, you’re gonna owe me for this.”

"I don't have any money. I cannot pay you." Castiel shrugs.

"Oh, I'm not talking about money, pretty boy," Dean chuckles. "I'm talking about something else, and you will give it to me. Willingly. Let's begin." He turns to the public, which is witnessing their conversation. "Muy bien. Todos fuera!" The walls shake from his shout and the demons, including the barman, start to leave the bar one by one. Soon after, Dean and Castiel are the only ones left inside.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Dean chuckles and starts to unbutton Castiel's beige trench coat.

"What are you doing?" The angel swats at his hand furiously.

"Hm, excuse me, but this needs to be off. Your shirt too. I need to see your back." The demon simply shrugs.

Castiel lets out a small sigh and cautiously turns around, shucking off the trench coat. Soon after it falls on the floor, a white shirt joins it.

"Hmm…" Dean hums incomprehensibly.

"What is it?" The angel turns his head. The blue eyes are full of pain and exhaustion.

"Nothing. It's nothing that I can't fix," Dean assures him and takes a good look at the angel's back, which is covered in small bloody scratches, stretching down to the angel's waist.

"Alright, you should relax, umm…" Dean stutters, still not knowing the angel's name.

"Castiel. My name is Castiel." The angel gasps when the demon touches his back gingerly.

"Nice name, Cas," the demon says with a grin. "Relax now. I need time to pull these fuckers out."

"You… you can see my wings?" Castiel asks incredulously. It's very rare that a demon can see an angel's wings without manifesting them.

"Yeah, I can. I was born with the ability." Dean nods. "Oh, there you are, you bastards."

For the next half an hour, Dean fumbles behind Castiel's back, pulling, plucking, or tearing things out of the angel's wings. Castiel cannot see them, but he feels relief increasing with every single pull.

"Done." Dean declares after a while, wiping sweat off of his forehead. "Stretch your wings. How do they feel?"

The angel stretches them gingerly, raises and lowers them carefully. They are in perfect shape. No damage.

"They are fine. Thank you, Dean." Castiel wants to stand up from a chair and put his clothes back on, but Dean's hand on his shoulder stops him.

"Woah, there Cas! Not so fast. Your grace is still bound and the wounds will take a long time to heal without it. Unless I do something about them."

"You? What could you do to heal them?" Castiel raises his brow.

"You'll see." Dean smirks. "Sit down and don't move."

Castiel gasps when the demon's hot tongue licks one of the wounds on his back. His hands grabbing the edge of the bar counter turn white as a hot wave of some unknown sensation spreads in his body.

"Dean…" he sounds surprised and shocked. "What are you doing?"

The demon just keeps licking him, tracing his tongue over the bloody traces, cleaning and lapping at them. One of his hands rests on Castiel's thigh while the fingers of his other hand slide through the angel's dark messy hair.

"Virgin… you are a virgin…" the demon moans lustfully, kissing and sucking at the wound near Castiel's neck. "Mine… I'm gonna make you mine, Cas! And that's how you will pay me…" Dean bites down on the angel's shoulder.

"Who… who are you?" Castiel feels dizzy. His blood is boiling and gathering in one spot. The touches of this demon are burning hot against his skin and he does not want them to stop.

"I'm an Incubus and you're my prey. I'm gonna make you mine, mark you as mine so everyone can see who you belong to…" Dean's voice is spreading electric sparks throughout his body and Castiel's mouth goes dry. His heart is thundering against his ribcage, trying to explode.

Saliva! It's Dean's saliva. He's been licking Castiel's wounds and his saliva got into the wounds, spreading desire and lust into the angel's veins.

Castiel has no strength or a desire to fight Dean off when the demon's hands turn him around and a pair of luscious, sinful lips cover his mouth. Castiel moans when Dean's tongue invades his mouth and grabs the demon by his shoulders. Dean just chuckles into the kiss.

"I'll make it good for ya, Cas. You’ll love it." Dean grabs the angel by his hips, lifts him up effortlessly, and wraps his legs around his waist tightly.

Castiel's mind is too clouded to object the Incubus' venom and he simply yields to Dean as the demon takes him to the pool table standing in the furthest corner of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this fic, read my other story Chasing Your Shadow. It has demon Dean and human Cas in it.

Art by: greekgeek2.tumblr.com

Dean walks towards the pool table with such pride that it makes him look like a freakin' Roman emperor standing in a chariot, rolling into the streets of the ancient city, carrying priceless spoils of war in his hands – in this case, Castiel. The angel's breathing is ragged, body hot and pliant against the demon's chest. Dean still can see Castiel's quivering feathers, though the angel has not manifested them. They look so helpless, like newborn flower buds in a hurricane.

Dean makes Castiel sit down on the edge of the table and stands between his parted thighs. Castiel's eyes are wild and unfocused, pupils dilated. Blackness has taken over the crystal blue color. Incubus' venom is strong and it does not give a damn if you are an angel, human, or a three-legged dog. It can affect everyone and everything. Every damn living thing.

Dean licks a stripe up the angel's throat, stopping near his jaw, where Castiel's pulse beats frantically. The demon smirks when he sees Castiel's hands clenching around two pool-balls – green and blue. Poor thing! He's trying to resist. Ha!

"Man, what a constipated face you've got there!" Dean laughs out loud. "Stop fighting it, Cas. You're powerless. My venom runs deep inside your blood and you'll only make it worse. I don't want you to get exhausted. Only I’m allowed to do that."

"It's… It's not right…" Castiel rasps. "We can't do this."

"Who said that we can't?" Dean purrs like a contented cat which has eaten tons of cream and nuzzles his nose against Castiel's cheek. "Enough games. Time for the show." His hand rubs gentle circles on the angel's black slacks, feeling the slowly but surely stiffening flesh under his palm.

"Dean…" Castiel pants heavily as his last, rationally functioning brain cell hopes that it's just an illusion, a nightmare caused by Baal-berith's spell.

"Shh... Don't talk, angel. Just accept it and feel what I'm giving you," Dean whispers and gently lays the brunet on the table. His hands roam over Castiel's body, his fingers kneading the flesh of the smaller man.

Castiel's fingernails dig into the green velvety surface of the table when Dean buries his nose into the light line of happy trail on the angel's body, inhaling the scent deeply.

"Your scent is driving me crazy, Cas," Dean growls. "Wanted you from the second I laid my eyes on you!" He kisses his way up to Castiel's right nipple and without any further fuss, takes it hostage into the hotness and wetness of his mouth.

Castiel almost chokes on his own breath, unable to hold a loud moan that rips out of his throat. These new sensations are frightening. They are unfamiliar and intense, things which he has never felt before. But he likes them, father forgive him, he likes them a lot, when Dean grinds against his ass, while the demon's tongue is busy studying every corner in the angel's mouth, sucking and nibbling at Castiel's lips. And they are like thunder and lightning, shocking and paralyzing, sending electric chills down Castiel's spine.

"Do you feel my hands?" Dean's voice is wrecked. "Do you like what I'm doing to you?"

Castiel swallows hard and barely manages to nod. "They… they feel nice… when you touch me…"

Dean smiles broadly. Castiel is the best prey he’s ever ensnared. He has never tried his charms on an angel before, never has had an occasion and of course he would not have dared using it on them, knowing how powerful those sons of bitches are, if not for today's incident.

Castiel is still swimming in the haze of want and lust when Dean starts to fumble with the buckle of the angel's belt, his fingers tremble with impatience. The air in the bar is hot and it's getting hard to breathe. The demon pulls his T-shirt off over his head and throws it aside. His hands are back on Castiel, grabbing the waistline of his trousers.

"You should look at yourself. How desirable you look, Cas," he murmurs and pulls down the angel's trousers together with the boxers. "Look at you, full of need and lust. Tell me, what do you want me to do, angel?" Dean removes Castiel's shoes and socks, the last of his remaining clothing, and throws them on the floor.

So beautiful. Castiel looks mind-blowingly beautiful like this. Stark naked and at Dean's mercy. A pretty pink shade on his cheeks, kiss-swollen, slick lips parted and letting out shallow breaths; the angel looks so wanton and seductive that Dean has to bite his lip hard, drawing out blood, not to fuck Castiel raw from there ‘til next Tuesday.

One of the light bulbs above their heads explodes as Castiel cries out and arches his back when the Incubus swallows him down to the root and sucks hard, like he's a huge vacuum cleaner wanting to drain all the life force from the angel, leaving him boneless. Dean just doubles his efforts, hearing Castiel's loud and sincere moans and he does not object when the angel starts thrusting up, fucking his mouth in earnest, while holding the green-eyed demon's head with both hands. The Incubus just hums happily around the angel's rock-hard member, sending a new wave of pleasure to the horny angel of the lord.

"You like it, Cas?" Dean pulls his mouth off with an obscene, wet pop, looking at the angel attentively. Nah, Castiel is totally under his control.

"Why did you stop? Please don't stop. I… I need it…" Castiel whimpers slightly and instinctively bucks his hips up, trying to find more friction.

"Patience, halo boy," the demon chuckles and starts to stroke the angel's flesh while his other hand is busy unbuttoning his own jeans. "That was only a prelude of the main play." His teeth nibble one of the hipbones of the feathery creature, lapping and licking it afterwards.

Castiel does not question what he has to do when Dean presses three fingers to his lips. He just opens his mouth, letting them in, twirling his tongue around the digits. He lets out a small huff of protest when Dean pulls them out of the hot wetness of his mouth. But the disappointment is quickly forgotten when Castiel feels them nudging against his tight ring of muscles and he gets tense. But Dean's soothing crooning in his ear has a relaxing effect and he sags, yielding to the demon completely.

When the Incubus slides his first finger into the heat of molten lava that is Castiel's inner walls, the angel starts to mumble in a language which Dean does not speak, but he knows it's Enochian. He may not speak the language, but he can understand that the broken stream of words pouring out of the angel's mouth do not make much sense. At an agonizingly slow speed, he adds the second finger, dragging and moving them inside the angel, scissoring and stretching him.

"More… more please…." Castiel's head rolls from side to side, holding to Dean's shoulders for dear life. The burning feeling is quickly fading, replaced by sweet, delicious ones. He tries to move down on Dean fingers, getting more friction. Indeed, this feels nice, but he has a gut feeling that there is something else that he's missing here. And there it is! Dean changes the angle and his fingers slide over a spot deep inside Castiel that makes the angel jolt up and cry out. A thick, pearly thread of precum stretches down from the slit of his cock as his knees start to buckle treacherously.

"Fuck…" Dean grunts looking down at Castiel and palms his raging hard on through the thick fabric. "Fuck... I can't wait any longer, Cas."

The demon pulls down his jeans and underwear until they're pooled around his ankles, releasing his thick, hard as a rock dick with a bloodshot, angry red head. Dean hooks his hands behind Castiel's knees, tugging him closer, until the angel's perfect, firm ass rests against his crotch. The demon lets out a hiss when the tip of his member slides in the crease of Castiel's buttocks. He spits on his palm and quickly slicks his painfully erect member, not wanting to lose any more seconds. He's been patient enough.

"Cas, relax. It will not hurt too much if you're not tense." He gives the last warning to the angel before pushing his hips forward slowly and carefully.

The angel gasps at the burning intrusion, instinctively trying to run away from it by crawling up the table, but Dean is relentless. He blocks Castiel's weak efforts, not letting him move, slinging his legs over his shoulders and covering the angel's body, completely immobilizing him.

"Dammit, Cas, stop fighting. Give it a minute. Trust me, it gets better. Oh fuck…" he moans as he bottoms out, sheathing himself inside the angel, squeezing his thighs. He waits a minute 'til Castiel adjusts to his length inside him and then begins to move.

Castiel relaxes little by little and begins to enjoy the process as Dean picks up his pace, making deep, hard thrusts. And again, the demon slides into that mysterious spot, which has Castiel shivering and whimpering. Surges of excitement and adrenaline wash over him like a tsunami and the angel moans. He moans loudly and lustfully as Dean's dick rocks into him, hitting the bundle of nerves over and over again.

"Wings… Cas, unfurl your wings…" Dean rasps, sweat dripping down his forehead. "Please, I want to see them unfurled…"

There is a short rustling sound and Dean gasps as Castiel's white wings appear from behind his back, stretching over the pool table. They are at least six feet each, Dean assumes.

"Fuck me…" Dean whispers, awed, ceasing his movements for a second. They are truly splendid, the most beautiful things the demon has ever seen. Then he notices something and frowns, a doubt gnawing at his mind.

"Cas, are your wings all snowy white or do you have some different colored feathers too in them?" He resumes thrusting, leaning forward and catching the angel's mouth in a short, heated kiss.

"Only white. No other color. It represents… ah… our pureness," Castiel bites his lip as Dean makes another slam into his prostate. "Why are you asking, D-dean?"

"I'm saying because… nghh… because… there are black feathers in your wings… and they… they… holy shit! They’re multiplying!" Dean exclaims in disbelief.

Castiel turns his head to the side, taking a look at his left wing. Indeed, the black feathers are appearing out of nowhere, devouring and replacing his shiny, white feathers.

"No, no, no," Castiel whispers, feeling wild fear. "What's happening? Why are they turning black?"

"I guess it's because of me," Dean moans into Castiel's neck and picks up pace, ramming into the angel relentlessly as he feels his orgasm approaching. "It's because I am corrupting you. That's why they are turning black!"

"No, no this can't be happening," Castiel shakes his head, tears welling up in his eyes, seeing that his left wing is completely black now. "Father… please, father…" he chokes a sob, a tear running down his cheek.

"Your father will not save you, Cas," Dean whispers into Castiel's ear, licking the tear off. "Shhh now, don't cry over spilled milk."

"I will beg for his forgiveness," Castiel whispers stubbornly and digs his fingernails into the muscles of Dean's shoulders. "I will beg my siblings for forgiveness, for I have dishonored their names."

"Nonsense, they will kill you. That's what they're gonna do. Your holy, winged dick brothers. Forget about them. You’re mine, now." Dean's voice breaks as he feels tightness in his balls, heat rising up in his abdomen. He clenches his fist around Castiel's neglected member and strokes it fast, matching with the rapid thrusts of his hips.

"You…" slam. "Are…" slam. "Mine…" slam.

"No... no… I will nev…" The words get stuck in Castiel's throat when utter and sheer bliss covers and envelopes him, throwing the angel into the whirlpool of nirvana. Castiel screams, arching his back and stretching his now black wings at their full length.

All the light bulbs, window-panes, and bottles fucking explode in the bar and rain down on them while Castiel clenches around Dean's cock, splashing hot semen over the demon's fist and his own belly, as the Incubus keeps hammering into him with all his remaining strength, grunting and moaning, chasing after his own release.

"Yes… fuck… fuck, Cas… Yes, you are Miiiiiiiine!" Dean yells, when his orgasm hits him like a freight train, shaking him to his very core. Castiel's spasming muscles around his pulsing member make him shoot his release deep inside the angel in hot streams until he falls down on the corrupted angel of the lord, exhausted and empty.

 

 

* * *

"Don't go, Cas."

They are both clothed and standing at the pool table. Dean is staring at colored balls, rolling one of them from side to side absentmindedly. Castiel's wounds are healed, gone without a trace, but the angel looks devastated, though his grace has come back.

"They will kill you and I do not want you dead," Dean repeats quietly.

"I must go. This is not a place where I belong." Castiel shakes his head and turns around. "Goodbye, Dean Winchester." He walks out of the bar into the darkness of the night.

And Dean feels something breaking inside, deep inside his darkened, black soul. He feels like running after Castiel, grabbing him by the lapels of his stupid trench coat and slamming him into the nearest wall, yelling in his face that no, he can’t fucking go anywhere, because yes, this is the place he belongs from now. That he belongs beside Dean!

But he doesn’t do it. Because he's not into chick flick moments, because he's a tough son of a bitch and feelings are not for him! He swears aloud and throws the eight ball into the wall, shattering it into pieces.

 

 

* * *

**One week later**

It's a rainy day and El Cielo is overcrowded. The bar is always busy on rainy days. It's a small town; there are not many places to go to have fun and that's why it's the favorite place for demons to gather, have a drink, and gamble.

Dean is sitting at the table with five other demons, drinking tequila and playing the sixth round of the poker game, when the music stops and everyone looks behind his back.

"Qué pasó? Les mordió la lengua el gato?" He looks at the fellow demons, who are smirking and chuckling.

"Tu ángel volvió," says one of the demons, pointing behind Dean's back with the ace of spades.

The Incubus turns around and meets with the pair of crystal-clear blue eyes. Castiel is standing at the bar counter in a bloody trench coat, which is ripped in some places. He's got scratches and gashes on his forehead and cheeks, a split lip with dried blood on it, but nevertheless he's alive.

Dean drops his cards down on the table and rushes over to the angel. Concern and worry is written all over his face and the angel answers his silent question.

"You were right. They tried to kill me. I tried to defend myself and only wounded them, as I did not want to kill anyone. I am banned from heaven because of my disgrace. I did not know where to go. I… I probably should not have come here." Castiel looks lost and he's ready to disappear, when Dean grabs his arm.

"Hey, hey, take it easy. It's alright. You did the right thing when you came to me." The demon touches his split lip, smiling slightly. "Let's go," he says suddenly.

"B-but where?" Castiel stutters.

"Home. I'm taking you home with me. You'll be safe there. No one's gonna find you. And if they try, we’ll gank those sons of bitches. Together." He brushes his thumb over Castiel's bottom lip.

The angel seems thoughtful for a moment but then slowly nods. "Alright."

They walk towards the bar exit and Dean shouts to his comrades over his shoulder: "Traeme el dinero a casa. Adios."

They stop in front of a beautiful, black car. The rain has stopped and the moon is peeking out of the clouds, casting its rays to the ground.

"This is my baby, a ‘67 Chevy Impala." Dean says proudly, gliding a hand over the roof. "And Cas," Dean presses the smaller man into the door of the car. "I'm glad you're back."

The angel is quiet; he's not sure what to say in reply.

"I’m not a bad guy," Dean continues, flicking his tongue out and licking at Castiel's lips before planting a long, burning kiss on them.

"I hope so," Castiel's lips quirk into a smile and he rests his hands on Dean's shoulders, giving in to the kiss. He grunts out his pleasure when the demon's hands grope and start kneading his ass.

"Right, we better hit the road," Dean pulls away, panting and licking his lips. "We will have the whole night to do this." He chuckles and smacks the angel playfully on the butt. "Get in the car, Cas."

As soon as they are both in the car, loud music full of screaming guitars blares out of the speakers, cutting through the thick curtain of the night. The Impala takes off with screeching tires, driving down the dusty road somewhere in Mexico and vanishes into the darkness.

 

 

* * *

**The End**

Translations:

Qué pasó? Les mordió la lengua el gato? - What's the matter? Cat's got your tongues?

Tu ángel volvió - Your angel is back.

Traeme el dinero a casa. Adios - Send me my money home. Goodbye.

 


End file.
